


A Thicket of New Veins

by gloss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Anal Fingering, Awkward Emotional Confessions, Blow Jobs, Come Marking, First Time, Glum Porn, Hand Jobs, M/M, Ongoing Wartime Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Fic, Sort of Not So Bad, possible consent issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <cite>"I'm okay." Poe grabs Finn's shoulder and tugs him closer. "Promise you won't laugh?"</cite>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <cite>"Yeah, of course, I won't." Finn nods and hope it looks reassuring. "You know, other than that one defection, I'm a pretty reliable person."</cite></p><p> </p><p><cite>"Yeah," Poe says, and maybe it's just because they're leaning so close like they're about to share their deepest secrets, but Finn hears Poe's *breath* every bit as much as his words. "You really are. Um."</cite><br/><br/>Unexpected reunion, post-battle stress, and accidental stimulation=desperately needed first time. </p><p>Please check the notes for information about possible consent issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thicket of New Veins

**Author's Note:**

> Consent: I don't think there are consent issues in this story, unless you want to argue that all of us with mental health issues are incapable of consent, and that's a fairly ugly position to take. But I've tagged this with possible consent issues, just in case your boundaries are different from mine.
> 
> I was taking kink prompts on tumblr, and @youandthemountains asked for :"accidental stimulation, fingering, body worship, & reunion" and @morethananythinginmylife asked for come marking and body worship, so I combined the two.
> 
> Thanks to @cicak for coming up with the source of the accidental stimulation. 
> 
> Title from Lorca. Thanks to G. for beta and help.

But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;  
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths  
in a thicket of new veins  
Federico García Lorca, "[City That Does Not Sleep](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/city-does-not-sleep)"

* * *

What remains of the strike team makes it to the rendezvous twelve hours early. This particular resistance division occupies an old Imperial supply station, cloaked from detection by flares from the binary stars. Even if you put the whole resistance here, they wouldn't fill the place. Hectares of unused, mostly-stripped space is interrupted by tiny knots of frantic activity, like ember bugs working against the full weight of night.

Finn gets the wounded set up with medics and portable bacta tanks, then circles back to the hangar deck. He's tired but antsy, too fretful to lie down just yet. 

He left his armor back on the transport, when he was still so worked-up, caught in that calm terrible trooper panic he thought he'd forgotten, that he couldn't stop sweating. He hasn't been this soaked since Jakku. Now, wearing just a thin jersey and the snug under-trousers that are just a little more tailoring away from being thick stockings, he's getting cold. As he walks, he swings his arms, clapping his hands ahead and behind him. The noise resounds oddly in the cavernous emptiness.

After the shitshow of their battle and the terror of their lumbering, desperate sub-light trip back, he'd thought he'd enjoy the solitude and the quiet. There was so much noise, all that fear, spiking jagged and dangerous, everywhere he turned. But it's dark here, and chilly. Lonely.

Either he'll walk until he's tired or he'll run into a distraction of some kind. He doesn't know who's on-base versus who's here. He just wants a little company. Something to do that's nothing like what he's been doing.

The hangar deck is farther than he thought, but bright and so noisy that he knows it's ahead well before he can make anything out. 

He arrives just as an X-Wing clatters onto deck. It's not Black One, but an older one, rickety, the usual bare metal pockmarked with old fire and patchworked with repairs of varying competence. It's also visibly listing, one of the foils incompletely closed, such that the black sky can just be made out between them.

Finn pauses just outside the tech station to get a sense of who's here, what's going on, whether he can help.

The X-Wing skids and bumps to a stop, angled slightly wrong in the catchlines.

"Never should've put that one back up," one of the techs says as they run off.

"You were right, Silb, get over it!"

The crew gets it fully stopped and finally the light flashes to let the pilot disembark. The astromech drops first - Finn perks up when he thinks it's BB-8, then reminds himself that this isn't Black One and BB units are, by sight alone, all of a kind.

But then the pilot vaults out of the cockpit, reaching up to smack the broken foils before tossing his helmet back up inside.

Poe's not supposed to be here - last Finn heard, he was in the Cygnate system doing spooky things. But that _is_ Poe and there's a sudden wind squeezing Finn's lungs and heart.

"Can you check BB-8 over?" Poe catches one of the techs by the elbow and leans in close. Finn can hear him, though, because everyone's shouting down here. "I don't know if he caught a flare or something from that piece of shit's system, but he's --" He notices Finn then and his expression flashes from grave to joyous. "He's off. Thanks!"

He jogs towards Finn, shrugging off the flak vest and unsnapping the blaster holster as he goes. "Hey!"

"You're not supposed to be here, you --" Finn clamps his mouth shut. "Hey."

"Weird, weird shit, can't wait to tell you about it --" Poe's squeezing Finn's arm but looking around distractedly. "Where are the freshers? Are there any? Did Imperials ever have to take a leak or was that too democratic?"

"They just recycled it in the trooper armor," Finn says.

"Gross, and also probably true," Poe says, moving away now.

"Do you want to --" Finn coughs and raises his voice. "Hang out, maybe? My team's all down and --"

"Finn, buddy, can this wait? I've got --" Poe's face is flushed, some of his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat; Finn's fingers twitch with the urge to brush it back. He pauses, mouth tightening a little, before clapping Finn's elbow and tugging him forward. "No, forget it. Walk with me?"

"Yeah, cool." Finn sways slightly, knocks their shoulders together. "Where're you headed?"

"Eh," Poe says. "Fresher? Bunk? Anywhere. You?"

"Anywhere sounds good," Finn replies.

Poe glances at him sharply, then grins and squeezes his shoulder. "Lead the way, then."

Finn takes him past the hangar deck, deep into the ship. It's been at least ten minutes, probably more, since they passed another life form. Poe's breathing is kind of loud, his gait off, so at the next corridor intersection, Finn pulls him to a stop.

"You all right? Sure you don't need -- need something?"

Poe rubs his chin and looks off to the side, lips pursed, then back. "This is embarrassing. Well. Not _embarrassing_ , it's normal, just unexpected. A surprise, if you will."

He sounds grave and thoughtful, and Finn leans in, as if this is a significant confidence being shared. "What's going on? You're okay?"

"I'm okay." Poe grabs Finn's shoulder and tugs him closer. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Yeah, of course, I won't." Finn nods and hope it looks reassuring. "You know, other than that one defection, I'm a pretty reliable person."

"Yeah," Poe says, and maybe it's just because they're leaning so close like they're about to share their deepest secrets, but Finn hears Poe's breath every bit as much as his words. "You really are. Um."

Finn puts his arm around Poe's shoulders. That's reassuring, he knows it is; he always feels a little better when Poe does the same to him. "It's okay."

Poe presses his face right against Finn's ear and whispers, "I've got an erection like a fucking Force Tree in my pants right now."

Startled, Finn barks out a laugh, then claps his hand over his mouth. "That's...big?"

"Big," Poe agrees. "And so hard. I'd say verging on painful but we left pain back a while ago."

"Wow."

"Yeah. The S-foils, man, they wouldn't latch and the whole X-wing just kept _vibrating_ , and at first I didn't notice, because - foils! Got to keep an eye on them! Or fix them, BB-8 and I tried but after a while he was fritzed and it was more like get this piece of shit _down_ before something even worse blows. So here I am."

He hasn't moved from Finn's ear. That entire speech goes right into Finn's skin, heat from Poe's lips, the dampness of his breath, and now it's Finn's turn to bite his lip and try not to shift his weight too obviously.

Physiological responses to simple stimulation are natural and welcome. He knows this. But this is a little _too_ simple, perhaps, and certainly highly stimulating.

"You were flying while getting more and more turned on?" he asks.

Poe nods and his sweaty hair brushes Finn's temple. "Torture."

"Sounds like it," Finn replies and when he smiles, his cheek moves against Poe's mouth. "Guess I should --"

 _let you go take care of it,_ he should say.

"Yeah," Poe says, already moving away. There's an edge to his voice, but Finn's probably just imagining that. How much meaning can you get from a syllable, after all?

"No," Finn says and tightens his arm around Poe. "Let me help."

Poe doesn't say anything for the space of several heartbeats. Maybe that isn't so long, considering how _fast_ Finn's heart is going, but it feels like a very long time.

"Finn --"

"It's not a stormtrooper thing," Finn says quickly. Half the time he tries to assert himself, even just do something a little unusual, someone's bound to start wondering if this is his programming coming out. "If that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried," Poe says quietly as he slides in front of Finn, pressing him back into the bulkhead. He tips back his head a little and looks Finn over, slowly, deliberately, even as he presses himself against Finn, chest to knees. "I'm --"

There has to be at least three layers - Finn's leggings, Poe's flight suit and then his drawers - but Finn can feel clearly as anything the pressure of Poe's erection. He tilts up his hips, trying for a little friction, and kisses Poe. Gently, just a brush of lips, his hand loosening on Poe's shoulder to cup his neck. The skin there is damp, too, and hot.

Poe says something, or maybe just grunts, rocking into Finn.

"You're what?" Finn asks, just to be sure. 

" _Hard_ ," Poe says and laughs a little, shoulders lifting, his mouth never leaving Finn's throat. " _Damn_ , it's like, it's like --"

When he grinds against Finn's leg again, Finn wraps his free arm around Poe's waist, hand just above his ass, holding him there in place. "It's okay, it's going to be okay."

He said exactly that all day long, over and over, well past when his voice started to break. Most of the time it was proven to be a lie. He told Rolp and Kriz it was going to be okay. Neither of them even made it to the transport; Kriz was in too many pieces to gather. He told Prax Redell, too, and he's stuck in a bacta tank for who knows how long. Finn hates being a liar.

He kisses Poe harder, forgetting himself, then, when he realizes what he's doing, harder yet, chasing that forgetfulness all over again. Poe's mouth is better than Finn's been dreaming of, slick and flexible and _full_ , all over his, pressing out thought every bit as strongly and surely as his groin is.

"Take it off --" Finn has to stop, and breathe, and wiggle a little, then plucks at the heavy collar of Poe's flightsuit. "Get it off, come on."

"Hey," Poe says, smiling, brows going up. He's getting ready to make a wisecrack. "Sweet talk a guy, maybe? Buy me a --"

Finn grasps his hip and yanks down the fastener-strip, all the way to Poe's crotch. He kisses Poe again, groaning against his tongue, trying to work his hand inside the suit.

"Hey, hey," Poe says and pulls away a little. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but -- slow down. It's okay."

"You need it," Finn says.

"True," Poe replies, and kisses Finn's chin, then underneath, where the skin turns into throat. He sucks hard, thrusting on Finn's leg, then pulls back. "Can we get horizontal, though? Maybe?"

Finn rolls his eyes, nudging Poe back so he can lead the way. "Fine."

"You okay, man?" Poe asks, catching up, his jog a little off given what he's dealing with between his legs. "You don't seem like yourself --"

"I don't seem like myself because I want to fuck you?"

"Whoa." Poe stops short, tugging Finn's arm to make him stop, too. "No, that part's great. Amazing! No, I mean --"

"Sorry." Finn rubs his eyes, then the back of his head. "It's been a shit day. One of the worst."

Poe says, softly, "you want to talk about it?"

Finn snorts on a laugh. "I really don't. Not right now."

This'll be the end of it, he figures. Poe will push away, make some nice excuses that he will probably even mean (because he's a good guy), and Finn will go back to wandering the destroyer. He should've kept going, kept kissing Poe, jerked him off, kept himself lost and forgetful for just a little longer. Now he's not getting off _and_ he's assailed by all his thoughts. Good job, man, great going, master of tactical deployment right here.

"Okay," Poe says, and his hand's pushing up Finn's arm, over the goosebumps, around the curve of his bicep, then under his sleeve. 

"Yeah?" Finn takes a short, shaky breath, not quite ready to believe it.

Poe digs his fingers into Finn's shoulder and pulls him forward. He kind of looks like he does when they're working together, like he's come to a decision, like they're a _team_. "Yeah. Let's get going."

They push into an ante-room at the next turn in the passage, dark save for the underglow of emergency lighting and old comm terminals still running on their fusion batteries. If BB-8 were here, he'd find them somewhere more comfortable, maybe even with lighting, but then Finn would have to think about fooling around in front of the droid and he's not ready for that.

Poe's kissing him before the door slides shut, arms around his neck, kissing him hard enough to bruise, wrapping one leg around the back of Finn's knees.

"Horizontal, you said." Finn pushes him back, to his knees - and that's a good sight, too, he's going to remember that one, too, Poe's face looking up out of the darkness, lips parted, teeth a shiny stripe - and then onto his back. He kneels between Poe's thighs, helping - maybe hindering - him get his arms out of the flightsuit sleeves. 

"Hey," Poe says, grabbing his neck, kissing him again. "This is really good."

"It's going to get better," Finn tells him, palms running down Poe's torso, fingers plucking at the sweaty singlet. He pushes the fabric up, then pulls it down, tastes the sweat under Poe's clavicle.

Poe's moaning, arm around Finn's head, his body rippling up to meet Finn's mouth. He convulses a little when Finn pinches one nipple, rubs the fabric over it, then bites the exposed skin. "Shit. Finn, come on, _Finn_ , what's --"

The flightsuit rustles under Poe as he straightens up, tugging the singlet off over his head, then reaches for Finn. Finn pulls off his own and leans forward, bracing one hand beside Poe's ribs, running his free hand down Poe's chest, kissing him nice and slow. So slow and soft that Poe mumbles against him, complains, thrusts up to remind Finn where they were.

"I kind of want to hear you beg for it," Finn tells him, tongue moving around one nipple as he looks up to meet Poe's eyes. 

"I'll beg for it," Poe says and, just like that, he's leaning back on his elbows, head thrown back to expose the endless glorious line of his throat. "Finn, please, come on, I want you, please, touch me, I need it, I want, I want, make me come, I want --"

He's probably just kidding, but he sounds guttural, wracked with need, all more than enough to get Finn groaning, reaching for him again, thrusting back.

Poe pulls him back, kissing him again, rocking up against Finn's crotch. "Was that good? I can try again."

"Don't tease me --" Finn says, then bites off the whine and kisses Poe harder. When he looks up, Poe's frowning a little. His hips are still working, but he probably doesn't even know that. "Sorry. I know you're not. Sorry."

"Buddy," Poe tells him, palm on Finn's cheek, eyes going back and forth. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"It's a great idea," Finn says. "One of the best I've ever had. Maybe the timing's terrible -- no, the timing's definitely terrible, but what can you do? Not going to get any better."

Poe smiles at that, and nods slowly. "I do like the idea, I have to say."

"Good," Finn says, and kisses his jaw, slides his lips down Poe's throat, all the way to the middle of his chest. "Sorry I waited so long."

"Maybe you --" Poe bites his lip and the muscles in his arms stand out as Finn scrapes his teeth over one nipple, then the other. "Fuck. This is really good but I think I'm going to -- I'm pretty sure I'm going to --"

"Can I do this some more later? I want to keep tasting you." Finn sits back, hands on Poe's hips, tugging the flight suit down.

"Anything," Poe says, lifting his ass off the floor, and now he's finally, really, naked. "I'm not --" He hisses a breath when Finn runs his hands up his thighs, thumbs grazing the sides of his bush. "-- _fuck_. Not just saying that. Anything. Whatever you want."

"Good," Finn tells him. That soaring thing, sweeping up his chest, making his hands feel like they're floating, he'll name it later. It's something like elation, and relief, and (dangerous) expectation. Poe's dick is swollen, coated with pre-cum shining in patches, most of it gone tacky, it's been here so long. When Finn breathes out over it, Poe shouts, once, thrusting to the left as his torso twists right. 

His breath thunders around them. "Sorry, sorry, I got --"

Finn's mouth is full of spit. It wasn't a moment ago. It is now; the smell coming off Poe, all this sweat and longstanding, sour need, is making his head swim a little, the saliva run free. He smiles at Poe, gets a tight grin back before Poe's head falls back, and then he's just going down, open mouth, patient tongue. He doesn't even have to do much. Just stay open, move up and down a little, lick up the running pre-cum and taste the older stuff, tighten his cheeks when Poe's hips push up raggedly. Poe's dick is heavy inside his mouth, swelling, twitching, dragging past his lips with a slight burn.

For half a second, he could be anyone, any mouth, any orifice, really, and that's the best kind of forgotten, the never-known. Then Poe's saying his name, hissed out through teeth, the noise formed by a tongue Finn's tasted now, and now he can't be anyone else, anywhere else.

Maybe that's the more fearsome prospect, but he's drowning in taste and texture, noise and motion, and they're all _good_ , purely irresistible heat and moisture and friction. Poe thrusts faster, in and out, a couple more times. When Finn cradles his balls, reaches behind them, Poe's legs spread all the farther, his hips dipping, then rocketing up, his back arching.

He comes with a groan that _still_ sounds like Finn's name, his boot heel beating a rhythm on Finn's back. 

Finn licks him clean until Poe's half-laughing, half-sobbing, and then Finn releases him, burrowing down to lick his balls, the inside of his thighs.

"Finn?" Poe's voice sounds almost hollow. "Finn?"

Finn glances up. "You said I could taste you."

Poe's laugh catches a couple times, spluttering. "Thought you just did."

"Just the beginning," Finn says, pushing one of Poe's legs until it bends and his foot slides up the floor. He buries his face against Poe's crack, swirls his tongue a couple times, then drags his mouth, teeth first, up the back of Poe's hairy thigh.

"But --" Poe says and mimes...something. A hip thrust, a jacking hand, then the big popping sound of a smooch. "You?"

Sighing, Finn pulls himself up along Poe's side, trailing his hand. "I wanted to _taste_ you. Finally. So I won't forget."

Poe's frown is an elaborate expression, so many swooping curves. He grins a little, however, when Finn tries to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. "You don't have to forget. Not if you don't want to."

"I don't want to," Finn says. "But I might not get another chance."

"You know something I don't, man?"

"Nope. Don't know anything." Finn rests his face against Poe's chest and takes a deep breath. Poe's hand is on his head, the nape of his neck, across his shoulder now, gently exploring, so soft it almost hurts. 

"Anytime," Poe's whispering to him now, kissing his ear, his throat, the rise of his shoulder. "Anytime you want this, you just say so, okay?"

Finn laughs a little. The soaring sensation rides a little higher, won't let him go. "Yeah."

Every time he's thought about this - and he's thought about this a lot - things were fast and needy, _hard_ , lots of colliding limbs and deep thrusts, full of panting breath and moans, not many words at all.

But Poe's whispering, and his mouth is soft and thorough, and Finn's on his back now, staring up into the dark, as Poe straddles him and kisses the inside of his arm. His palm, each knuckle on each finger, then his wrist, his elbow. Whispering, kissing, sometimes alternately, sometimes together, working over Finn's skin, easing warmth through the tension.

"You taste really good," Poe's saying, and nipping down whenever Finn tries to shake his head. "You _do_ , you're really strong, and your body's so beautiful, _so_ beautiful, the way you carry yourself --"

Finn can't argue. He has plenty to argue _with_ , but the words aren't coming. He's watching Poe, murmuring a little whenever Poe pauses and waits, expectantly, for a reply. He's watching, and listening, and each stroke of Poe's mouth or his fingers works Finn a little warmer, a little looser.

He can't afford to relax much more than this. He squeezes his eyes shut and resists the warmth pulsing through him. He'd bite his lip but he can still taste Poe in his mouth, and that's warm, too, delicious, so he doesn't. 

He's tensing up again, getting his focus back.

He opens his eyes, watches Poe frowning down at him, and tries to shrug. It's difficult on this hard, cold floor.

"You want me to beg again?" Poe asks and grins, but the expression is small, prospective. He's leaning down, rubbing both hands over Finn's pecs, up and out to his shoulders, then back down. He lowers his voice and whispers roughly, "Please, Finn? Please let me fuck you? I want to make you feel good, please? Make me?"

Finn coughs and kind of laughs, his hands finding Poe's wrists, holding them still. "You're really good at that."

"I like you a lot," Poe says then. His eyes are half-open, his face shadowed, the bulb of his nose catching a battery light but he looks - Finn can't find the word, it's not handsome and it's not beautiful. It's like those, but better.

"Please," Finn says and closes his eyes. "Don't. Just --"

"But I do," Poe says, hands on Finn's neck now.

He's warm again, and Poe's touch firms. Finn tips his head up, and opens his mouth, expecting to kiss, but Poe's just looking at him again. Still.

"I like you, too," Finn says and works his lips together. "Obviously. You probably knew that."

"Nah."

"Liar."

Poe shakes his head. "Not lying."

"Oh. I do."

Poe turns his wrists in Finn's grip and closes his fingers around Finn's hands. He takes a breath. "I don't want to -- I feel like I took advantage of you. I don't want -- I can't do that. I can't."

Finn sits up now, careful not to dislodge Poe. "I wanted to, man. I really wanted to. Still do."

"But --"

He's going to be too nice. He's going to decide that stormtroopers, brainwashed children, can't speak for themselves.

"Just because I'm freaking out," Finn tells him, hoping this makes sense, because he doesn't have many other ways of saying it, "doesn't mean I don't know what I want to do. I'm always freaking out."

"No?" Poe's still listening. There's that.

"Yeah."

Poe exhales in a long sigh. "Shit. You -- you hide it well."

"Not hiding it," Finn says. "Just. Working around it. With it."

Poe kisses his neck, then the skin behind his ear. "I like you."

"You mentioned." Finn drops his head, gives him more access; the kisses make him shiver deeply, way under his skin, vibrations travelling up and outward.

"Want to repeat it," Poe says. "Finally saying it, deserve to say it as much as I want."

"Good point." Finn presses his face against Poe's palm. "I won't stop you."

"Good."

"Will you let me show you?" Poe asks, turning his hand so Finn's looking at him. "I can stop, if you want."

He's not leaving. Finn gives himself some time to think through that fact, while he studies Poe's face, the lines from his mouth, the two between his eyebrows, the hint of their spray around his eyes. His eyes, too, the sweep of his lids and thick blur of his lashes.

"Don't stop," Finn says and lies back down, pulling Poe with him. The weight of him against Finn is almost right, heavy but mobile, so warm. "Please don't."

Poe kisses him, shallowly, hand still cupping Finn's face, then works downward, hips rocking around Finn's waist. He grips Finn with his thighs, really hard, like a promise of something. When Finn slides his hands down his sides to grasp his ass, Poe moans a little, working his tongue down the center of Finn's chest. He glances up, half a grin on his face, then ducks back down. The warmth billows back through Finn, out from Poe's mouth, his touch, his thighs, and Finn gives in, easing into it, and the heat spreads through him, sparks when Poe says something, then catches and glows.

"Look at you," Poe says a little later, having made it all the way to Finn's navel. Braced on both hands, he looks up, lip in his teeth, eyes narrowed. " _Fuck_ , Finn, you're so gorgeous, I want you so --"

Finn swallows a groan, then lets it out. Something about being looked at - Poe's gaze so steady and calm - it's like being in battle, but reversed. They were all looking at him, waiting for deployment, demanding his decisions, begging him for comfort. Their panic was in their eyes; something else is in Poe's, or, at least, Finn's _seeing_ something else, something safer, something he can actually provide, an answer to the questions.

"You're so beautiful," Poe continues, tracing with one hand the edge of Finn's ribcage. "Strong and beautiful, I'm going to touch every millimeter --"

He bends back down, mouth on the hollow of Finn's stomach, moving across to the ticklish extremes of his waist, then back over. As he shifts down, his ass spreads a little under Finn's hands.

"Can I --?" Finn smacks his lips, trying to speak clearly. He tastes Poe all over again, still, and swallows. "Do this?"

He draws a finger down Poe's crack, then back up. Poe looks up at him, his face transformed. "Yeah, do it. Don't fucking stop, actually."

Finn sucks his finger, then traces the crack again, rocking from knuckle to fingertip, up and down, until he's working open Poe's hole and hearing Poe's breath catch and stutter.

They're moving together, Finn inside Poe, but also before him, spreading open to his mouth, his words. In the dark, just stripes of skin and odd angles of features are visible - the side of Poe's nose, a tilt of Finn's forearm - so all Finn can hold onto is the sensation and the sounds. Poe's touch, hand and tongue, gradually dismantle him, undoing the net of his pores, flinging him open, sprawling him wide.

He loses contact with Poe's ass at some point as Poe slides down his body. It's a thick, uncertain fact until he realizes, as Poe shifts Finn's hands out of the way, that they're empty at his sides.

"Hey --" Finn tries.

"You look so good --"

"It's dark, man."

"Trust me." Poe sticks his chin into Finn's thigh and bites down. "I have excellent vision."

"Right."

"You feel good? That's a question. Can I do more? Better? Different?"

"I --" Finn rolls his lips together, not to tense up, not to focus, but just to feel. He swallows traces of Poe in his spit, and sits up a little, braced on one elbow. He's so loose that everything's a little gelatinous, slower than normal. _Warm_. "I feel really good."

Poe's hands are in his lap, twisted around each other. His eyebrow jumps and he starts to grin, then quells it. "You _do_. That's a statement."

"Yeah," Finn says. "I got the distinction."

"I want to kiss you again, though." Poe's hands come apart, rise, then settle back on Finn's waist. 

"You can," Finn says, spreading his legs and loosely gripping his hard-on. The _thought_ \- it's about to be a fact - of touching himself with Poe's mouth on his makes the equilibrium in his head swoop and dip, a rush that leaves him suddenly breathless. "I should take care of, um --"

"No, no," Poe says, right up against Finn's chin, batting his hand out of the way. "I'm pretty good at doing several different things at once."

"Okay--" Finn starts but Poe's in motion, kissing him again, swinging a leg over Finn's, grasping his cock with sure, firm hand, and _pulling_ \- by the mouth, by the cock, somehow by all his skin - holding Finn, pulling him closer and tighter, gathering him up, twisting him tight and needy and wanting.

"I'm going to blow you next time," he says, tilting back, and Finn's mouth stays open, his eyes are wide and dry, and Poe's sliding down, still jerking Finn hard and fast, bringing his face in close. "Fuck, I want to. But this time, just --"

FInn nods quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I got it --"

"Come on me," Poe asks, or instructs, it's hard to tell, but his hand speeds up and Finn arches back, then cranes forward, watching himself spurt and shoot - a fast thick blotch on Poe's cheek, wavering ribbon across his mouth, spatters on his eyes, then, as he wiggles down, heavy droplets across his chest. He looks at Finn, licking his lips, and removes his hand from Finn's trembling dick. He holds up his palm, then takes Finn's hand, moves it over his face, down his throat. Finn rubs it in, swipes some up with his thumb and pushes it between Poe's open lips. He sucks, eyes on Finn; his cheeks hollow and fill up with shadows.

"It's all over you," Finn says, which is obvious, he probably didn't need to say that, but Poe moans, so it must have been okay. "Poe, you're --"

"Covered," Poe says, crawling up Finn, pushing him back, dragging his sticky chest against Finn's stomach and pecs. "You're all over me."

Finn heaves out a laugh, then another. "Well, my ejaculate is but --"

"Say it again," Poe whispers, using the low, sexy begging voice that's half-sincere, half-parody (but whose effect on Finn is entirely truthful), kissing the side of Finn's next. "Talk dirty. Say 'ejaculate'."

Finn bats at Poe's shoulder, laughing, entirely spent and weak. "Shut up. That's what it's called."

"I like it," Poe protests, wriggling until their legs are slotted together and he's a little on top of Finn, mostly on his side pressed against Finn. "It's -- different."

"Commander Dameron," Finn intones in his best tactician voice, "you will lick up _every_ drop of the ejaculate and suck clean the --" He can't go on; Poe is laughing, clutching at his far side, tickling him as he rolls his face into Finn's armpit. "Excuse me, Commander. Your instructions are clear --"

"Sit on his face until I come again?" Poe asks hopefully. "That could be something."

"Oh, shit," Finn says before he catches himself. " _Poe_."

"Don't get shy again," Poe says, propping his chin on Finn's arm. He digs his fingers into Finn's ribs and squeezes. "Come on. Stay with me."

"I'm not _shy_. I rescued you, didn't I?"

Poe nods. "That's true."

"Yeah," Finn says, exhaling, letting his head roll until it's touching Poe's. "See?"

It's strange - but it isn't - talking like they always do, half full of shit, half sincere, except their pants are off and the whole room stinks of sweat and, yes, Poe, _ejaculate_. They've always been pretty close physically, something which Finn didn't realize was remarkable until several weeks in. By then - by a few minutes past that first hug, actually - he wouldn't have changed that fact for anything.

This should feel more different. Weirder. Maybe that's what's off. Humans attach a variety of meanings and implications to sexual activity. He's not going to know what Poe's understanding is unless he asks.

"So," Finn starts. "I like you. I don't want you to feel --"

"I feel," Poe replies. "I feel _a lot_ , believe me. It's a whole panoply of feelings up in this head and heart."

Finn shoves him ineffectually. "Shut up, I want to talk."

"How am I supposed to talk if I have to shut up?"

"Stop fucking interrupting, man!" Finn shuts his eyes and breathes. It doesn't help much, but when he opens them again, Poe's looking at him with a slightly more serious face. "I'm sorry. I don't want to yell at you."

"Yeah, please don't," Poe says. When he swallows, Finn feels the motion of it against his arm. "I'm not being a jackass, saying that. It fucking sucks when you yell."

"Okay, okay. Sorry."

"You already said that," Poe says and smiles a little. "I heard it, apology accepted."

"Man," Finn says. "This is hard."

"'Hard'," Poe says. "Okay, continue. Just take it one thought at a time."

"I like you. I want to --" Finn opens and closes his fists. There are binders on his thoughts, restraints he's still working open. "Do this again, if you do. Sounded like you do."

"I do," Poe says.

"Okay."

Finn kisses Poe's forehead, his sweaty hairline, a stray droplet of cum. 

"Is that it?" Poe whispers as Finn rolls onto his side, arm going around Poe. His voice is soft and thick, a little sleepy.

"Yeah," Finn says. "That was it."

"Thank you," Poe says, mouth on the corner of Finn's. "Okay, _cool_. I should say something, too, though, right?"

Finn nips on the side of Poe's throat, sucks a little and hums until Poe's squirming against him. 

"I'm old," Poe eventually says, a little roughly. "Not old-old, not for the cosmos or anything. But old." Finn sweeps his palm down Poe's side and squeezes. "I am. And I do ridiculous shit, personally and professionally."

"You do, that much is true," Finn says.

"Your support means so much, buddy." Poe cups the back of Finn's head and sighs. "Just needed that said. On record, so to speak."

"I hear you."

"Also, about freaking out all the time," Poe says. "That's happening, too. Just wanted you to know that."

"Oh," Finn says. "Okay?"

"'cause you've got company, that's all. Or I guess, if you want to be alone, there's that, too."

"You're not making much sense."

"Yeah," Poe says and looks away. "I'm trying! But I'm pretty out of it."

"This floor is uncomfortable," Finn says. He tugs a few curls up from Poe's scalp.

"It's no vibrating X-Wing, though, believe you me."

"Maybe we should get up?"

Poe breathes out, long and low and gusty, pressing his face into Finn's neck. "Maybe. In a minute. Eventually."

**Author's Note:**

> Poe's "not old for the cosmos" is riff on a Craig Robinson joke. Just want to acknowledge that.


End file.
